


Second Dessert

by aquileaofthelonelymountain



Series: Bagginshield Waiter AU [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo has stagefright, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, but Thorin's there to help him (or at least distract him), food related innuendos, waiter!Thorin, waiter!au, writer!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-11-08 23:53:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11092536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/pseuds/aquileaofthelonelymountain
Summary: Bilbo hesitated. “I got a call from my publisher. I … I’m invited to present my latest novel at the coming book fair in Rivendell. I’ll have to read from my book in front of hundreds of people, and to answer their questions at that! And their questions will very probably be personal, or even weighty.”Thorin poured him some tea. “So you’re getting stage fright … That’s not a problem we can’t solve.”





	1. Chapter 1

Bilbo had hardly entered the _Copper Kettle,_ but Thorin could already tell that something wasn’t right. While Bilbo was waiting at the counter in the entrance area, his hands were crossed in front of his body, but his fingers twitched nonetheless, and his gaze wandered around the restaurant without actually looking for anything.

Thorin quickly rearranged his tie – although there was no need to – and headed towards him. “Welcome in the _Copper Kettle_ ”, he said gallantly as he made a deep bow and took Bilbo’s hand to breathe a kiss on the knuckles. “May I accompany you to your table?” His boyfriend smiled vaguely as he gently laid a hand on the small of his back and guided him towards his favourite table in the corner of the room.

It was a very quiet afternoon in the restaurant. Right now only one other table was occupied, and the ladies there giggled – not too quietly – as they watched them. But they had been there for about two hours in which they had indulged in wine, and they had obviously much fun by now.

“Hello, love”, Thorin greeted Bilbo once more with a kiss on the cheek after he had sat down. “Would you like tea and something sweet?”

Such a question often provoked a teasing reply from Bilbo. Once he had studied the menu rigorously just to look up, his face the definition of disappointment, and tell him that he had a craving for something that wasn’t on the menu and to snatch a kiss from him. Thorin smiled at the memory. Bilbo always bloomed around him, and he could speak to him of everything and anything. He was eloquent and cheeky, but he could also be utterly shy, especially in public. Back then the smaller man had thought that nobody had seen them in their hidden corner and had turned bright red at Dori’s remark that ardent love was something very charming, but that they should wait with their exchange of caresses until young Ori’s shift was over.

But today Bilbo only shook his head. “Just tea, please. I don’t feel very hungry right now.”

Thorin eyed him with concern. Bilbo must be really worried if he said no to one of Bombur’s desserts. The ginger-haired cook’s pastries were absolutely delicious, and Bilbo had a sweet tooth at that. He could get really excited about his food, and Thorin loved to watch him try one of Bombur’s latest creations: how carefully he took the first bite, how his face lightened up, the pleased little sounds he made.

He gave him another quick kiss on the cheek. “Okay. I’ll be back with your tea in a moment, and then you can tell me what has happened to upset you.”

On his way into the kitchen Thorin quickly checked if the women were still okay – after all, he was supposed to work. They obviously were and grinned broadly at him; one of them even told him directly to “hurry up and get back to his sweetheart”. He wouldn’t object to that, and soon he sat opposite of Bilbo. He reached for his hand and rubbed his thumb soothingly over it. “What’s wrong, love?”

Bilbo hesitated, but eventually he said: “I got a call from my publisher.” He didn’t look into Thorin’s eyes. “I … I’m invited to present my latest novel at the coming book fair in Rivendell.”

“But that’s great news!”, Thorin replied carefully. He had already been afraid that they had decided not to publish Bilbo’s works any longer or something similar. “I thought you would love to go to a book fair.”

“I do”, Bilbo sighed, “but as a visitor! Now I have to read from my book in front of hundreds of people, and to answer their questions at that!”

“Darling”, Thorin said softly, “why do you worry about such things? This is not your first book, and not your first reading as well. You’ve done this over and over again.”

“But that were children’s books!”, Bilbo exclaimed. “It’s easy to read in front of children, and their questions are fun to answer. But the audience at the book fair won’t be so easily amused, they will expect more than me altering my voice when I read different characters. And their questions will very probably be personal, or even _weighty_.”

Thorin let go of his hand to pour him some tea, otherwise the drink would stay completely unnoticed. “So you’re getting stage fright … That’s not a problem we can’t solve.”

His boyfriend pouted behind his teacup. “That’s easy enough to say for you”, he mumbled. “You’re never nervous.”

Now Thorin grinned at him. “You think so? Do I have to remind you of our first date at the _Oak_ _Hill_ tearoom?” Actually, it could hardly be called a date – after all, Bilbo had expected another man waiting for him, only to find Thorin to tell him that said man had been nothing more than a miserable rake trying to seduce him. Thorin was still surprised that the day had ended with him walking Bilbo home, and with Bilbo raising himself on his tiptoes to graze a kiss on his cheek and telling him that he would like to see him again.

“I got terribly nervous the second I laid my eyes upon you”, Thorin said with a grin. “Maybe I covered that guy with chocolate and sticky syrup by accident after all.”

Finally Bilbo’s smile wasn’t forced anymore. “You’re only trying to distract me.”

“And? Is it working?”

“A bit. Thank you.” Bilbo glanced at him through his lashes, and a faint blush appeared on his cheeks. “You always know how to cheer me up. I’m very happy to have met you.” He reached for Thorin’s hand, raised it to his lips and breathed a kiss on the knuckles, just as the waiter had welcomed him before. “Will you come to my place in the evening? I … don’t want to be alone, and …”

“Of course. My shift ends at seven.”

“I’ll cook for us. How does that sound?”

“Fantastic”, Thorin answered, and he meant it. Whenever they met at Bilbo’s apartment, he was indulging Thorin. He cooked his favourite meals, would not let him lift a finger, and basically treated him as if he were nothing less than a king. After all, he had explained, he came to the _Copper Kettle_ often enough – it had been his habit even before he had met Thorin –, and Thorin always was the perfect waiter and treated him most courteously. It was only fair that he spoiled him, and Thorin didn’t have the heart to protest – especially not if being spoiled meant Bilbo sitting on his lap, feeding sweet strawberry cupcakes to him, and covering him with even sweeter kisses.

The restaurant door opened, and Thorin’s attention was drawn away from his boyfriend. A tall man had just entered, and the children that were with him – a boy, as blonde as the man himself, and a red-haired girl – were already running to the cake showcase.

“Duty’s calling”, he said as he got up, but he bowed down again to give Bilbo a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

 

***

 

Thorin was welcomed by delicious smells as he entered Bilbo’s apartment. It was pleasantly warm, and the bright colours of the walls as well as the lamps and a hearth fire made him forget the clammy darkness outside at once … not to mention the gentle kiss with which Bilbo greeted him.

“The food’s not ready yet. I didn’t expect you to come directly from work”, he said while his gaze travelled over Thorin’s clothes: the white pinstripe shirt, black trousers, grey button up vest, and … His eyes stopped wandering about him as they fell on the black tie, and he grabbed it to give it a gentle pull. “Although I quite like the idea of you being at my service the whole night.”

“And I promise you that my service will be excellent”, the waiter replied with a grin. Then, however, he grimaced exaggeratedly. “Would you mind if I took a quick shower and changed nonetheless? Today’s special was onion soup, and I’m afraid I still smell of it.”

“Do you?” Bilbo pulled him closer and pressed his nose against his throat. He sniffed audibly, and Thorin’s skin prickled in a way that made him wish that dinner was nearly over, and that they could continue with dessert. Well, almost – the smells were mouth-watering, after all.

“You smell deliciously”, Bilbo argued, but loosened his grip around Thorin’s tie. “At least our food won’t burn if you’re not in the kitchen with me, so …” He smiled. “But don’t linger, okay?”

Thorin didn’t need to be told twice, and he quickly left for the bathroom. He moved through Bilbo’s apartment as if he had never lived elsewhere. They didn’t live together yet, but Bilbo had some of his stuff – not only clothes, but a whole heap of notebooks as well – in his flat, and there were some shelves for Thorin in Bilbo’s wardrobe.

_I should ask him soon_ , Thorin mused as he grabbed a simple shirt and more comfortable trousers. His gaze fell upon Bilbo’s clothes, all in bright colours, folded and stacked neatly. There was something about this sight that made him smile. Maybe it was the adorable fussiness, or the red jacket that caught his eye – it was Bilbo’s favourite, and he wore it so often that Thorin even saw him wearing it when he thought of his boyfriend. Well, not always – sometimes he thought of him in a less respectable, but nonetheless very captivating way, and of wrapping his arms around his soft form, and of ultimately falling asleep next to him. He would love to fall asleep next to him day after day after day; he really should ask him if he would like to move together with him.

Thorin was afraid he lingered after all – lost as he was in such fancies – but he arrived at the lovingly decorated table just in time.

“I hope you’re hungry”, Bilbo said as he placed a bowl in front of him, and Thorin inhaled the rich aroma of tomato cream soup. It looked delicious: The colour was deep, and it was topped with a splash of cream and parsley. Thorin was sure that some professional cooks would envy Bilbo for his cooking, and for how much care and thought he put into it. But his meals never looked too extravagant or pretentious, and they did not only come up to expectations, but always surpassed them.

They chatted light-heartedly during the first course. Thorin was glad to see that Bilbo’s mood had improved, but he wouldn’t pretend that his boyfriend hadn’t been worried at all. He had thought about his concerns about speaking in front of a large audience and talking about personal matters. Bilbo had no trouble to speak openly in front of him, and he wasn’t timid as well when he was amongst friends. He needed people he knew to feel secure whereas unfamiliar situations and faces made him nervous, especially if the situation required more than polite yet empty phrases. Maybe Thorin could help him to get accustomed to the thought of speaking in front of strange people.

“Going to Rivendell sounds like a great adventure … and like a grand opportunity”, he began half-way through the main course, grilled fish with herbs and crispy roast potatoes.

Bilbo let his fork sink as if he had tasted something sour. “I know”, he admitted with a sigh. “And of course I accepted the invitation – I would always blame myself if I let such an opportunity slip through my fingers. I mean, they even pay me a flight to Rivendell because going there by train would take too long – six hours, I think –, I’ll stay at a fancy hotel, and get access into the fair hall on all three days.”

“It sounds as if they’ll treat you very well … As if you’re the main event.”

“Probably I am.” Bilbo’s nose twitched, and he took a sip of his wine. “I’ll read at prime time, if you want to put it like that. At the first evening, just before the gala dinner. So it will be a big thing, actually. But”, he added with a frown, “that doesn’t mean that I have to like it.”

“Oh, I think you _do_ like reading your books to other people very much”, Thorin teased.

“It’s not the reading that causes me worries”, Bilbo grumbled. “You’re right, I enjoy that very much, and I forget everything around me while doing so. What bothers me is the round of questions after the reading. I’m not used to people asking me where I get my inspiration, or what character I think I resemble most, and stuff like that. It’s so … so personal. And bothersome.”

Thorin chewed thoughtfully on a potato before answering: “Then we have to see that you get used to such questions. We could practise. I can ask you questions about your books, your writing process, and whatever I can think of. You can think of appropriate answers, and then you won’t be unprepared for the questions at the book fair. How does that sound?”

Bilbo looked doubtfully at his plate. “I’m not sure about it …”

“Let’s give it a try, shall we?” Thorin pondered about a question for a moment, and when he spoke again he did so in a nasal voice that Bilbo giggled. “Now, Mister Boggins …”

“Baggins!”, he exclaimed laughingly.

“Isn’t that what I said?” Thorin wrinkled his nose. “As far as I gathered, your novel is set in the eighteenth century. So, how do you think your writing has affected that significate age?”

“How my writing has affected –” Bilbo burst into laughing once more. “You’re talking nonsense, you oaf!”

“Goodness, is this how you talk to your readers?” Thorin grinned.

“Only to my favourite one.” Bilbo shook his head in amusement before he got up to clear the table. As soon as he was close enough Thorin took the opportunity to wrap his arms around his boyfriend and pull him in for a kiss. “I’m glad to see you laughing again”, he whispered into his ear. “I don’t like seeing you downcast … especially if there’s so little I can do against it.”

“You underestimate yourself, my dear.” Bilbo trailed a finger across his jawline. “I think preparing answers could be very helpful indeed.” He chuckled. “Even if it’s only distracting me from my stage fright.”

“I’ll gladly distract you”, Thorin muttered. “I’m at your service. Any time.”

“Now we’re speaking of service again? Sometimes I get the impression you’re only thinking of your work, my dear.” Bilbo sounded playful, and he twirled one of the strands of Thorin’s loose hair around his finger. “What about dessert first?”

“Well, my special service has much to do with dessert …”, he answered while roaming his hands over his boyfriend’s back.

Bilbo smiled at him, put wriggled out of his embrace nonetheless. Balancing the empty plates with one hand, he made his way into the kitchen. However, he turned once more around to give Thorin a cheeky look. “I think you’re speaking of second dessert … and I have a strong craving for that.”

He didn’t approach the dining table when he returned with a bowl, though, but gestured towards the couch. Thorin made himself comfortable there, and Bilbo nuzzled up to him, his back pressed against Thorin’s chest. Thorin glanced over his shoulder to take a peek at the bowl. He reached out, snatched one of the cream puffs and fed it to Bilbo.

“Don’t you want to try one yourself?”, he asked when Thorin held another one out to him.

“Oh, I do”, he assured him. “But didn’t you want to spoil me? And now I have to drop you hints …”

“My sincerest apologies.” Bilbo turned in his arms. The bowl dipped dangerously sideward for a moment, but then Bilbo faced him; he almost lay on him like a blanket. He held a cream puff in front of Thorin’s mouth, just out of reach. “Will you do me the great honour and try one of these? I made them just for you.”

“How could I ever resist?”

Bilbo teased him a little more by withdrawing his hand, but finally he allowed him to catch the sweet. It melted on Thorin’s tongue, and he let out a content sigh. He would gain weight if he lived together with Bilbo, that was sure.

“One more?”, his boyfriend asked amiably; he already held another cream puff between his fingers. His face was close to Thorin’s. He could see the freckles on his nose clearly, and smell his scent, mixed with the aroma of the herbs and spices he had used in the kitchen.

“The audience will love you”, Thorin said instead of an answer. “It’s impossible not to.”

Bilbo’s teasing smile changed. It turned into something softer, and there was also a certain vulnerability about it that made Thorin wrap his hands around him a bit tighter. Bilbo in turn stretched a bit to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

They didn’t talk about the book fair at Rivendell anymore, but enjoyed their dessert, feeding the little pastries to each other and sweetening them with more kisses and soft touches. They could still taste the cream puffs on each other’s lips when the bowl had become empty and put away. The former clattering of crockery and cutlery that had filled the room was replaced by soft gasps, by the rustling of clothes that were removed, and finally by the sound of skin sliding over skin. Bodies shifted, and the empty bowl was knocked over and fell to the floor with a loud bang that had them both startling and laughing.

“Bilbo?”, Thorin asked in the silence of that unexpected interruption.

“Hm?” His boyfriend had already bowed down again to press kisses on his neck, but he looked up, his face bearing a lovely flush, and his curls being an equally lovely mess.

“Is it too late to … to get my tie?”

Bilbo blinked at him, but then he chuckled softy; his breath grazed over Thorin’s heated face. “I won’t let you go away right now, you know”, he answered clearly amused. “But I haven’t forgotten your promise to be at my service.” He brought his face closer to Thorin’s again. Before he kissed him once more, however, his lips curled into a broad smile. “I would be very delighted to have … a second second dessert.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo arrives at the Rivendell book fair, and he absolutely loves it: There are shelves full of books, giant posters advertising for books, booths with books, books that you can't find in the shops yet, actual heaps of books ...  
> and an unexpected surprise.

The Rivendell book fair was simply wonderful.

There were shelves full of books, giant posters advertising for books, booths with books, books that you couldn’t find in the shops yet, actual _heaps_ of books, and Bilbo absolutely loved it. It had been tempting to stay in his hotel rooms – they were really luxurious, the kind of rooms he would never book if he had to pay for them by himself –, but not as tempting as roaming around the fair hall. He had spent the whole day browsing through books and buying enough of them that the fee he got for his reading was probably spent already.

In fact, he would have almost forgotten about the reading in his excitement … if it weren’t for the fact that he literally saw his own face over and over again. It looked at him from bookmarks, flyers and big – absurdly big – posters advertising for the event. It was a strange feeling to see himself presented like that.

He knew the portrait. It was the official one his publishers used, and which was also shown on the dust cover of his books. But Bilbo had never realised how … confident he looked on it. But, with a life-size version of himself looking down on him, it was difficult not to notice.

His poster-version wore a dark-blue cardigan – it had been winter when they had taken the picture, he remembered – and had his arms crossed behind his back. He looked directly into the camera, and a small, almost cheeky smile was on his face. Bilbo wondered what strangers who saw him like this would think about him, and what they would expect from his reading. He definitely didn’t feel as confident as his poster-version looked.

His stomach did a little turn, but he took a deep breath to calm himself. Everything would be alright. He was perfectly prepared, thanks to Thorin’s relentless support.

The thought of Thorin made him relax a little more. He wished they could be here together. The waiter would have carried Bilbo’s book purchases for him and insisted on holding every door open for him nonetheless … He was such a gentleman, not only at work. He would have followed him even up here, right behind the stage, to share some encouraging words before Bilbo had to go into the spotlight.

He couldn’t imagine how the last weeks would have been without Thorin. He had been a true darling, always there if Bilbo needed somebody to talk to, patiently listening to all of his concerns, and always, always finding the right words to comfort him.

One evening was very vivid in his memory, and he recollected it while the events on the stage took their course, and the speaker told the audience a bit about Bilbo’s curriculum vitae.

 

***

 

“That’s a stupid question”, Bilbo muttered.

“It’s an ordinary question”, Thorin replied, not in the least impressed by his scowl. “And one that people will ask you very likely. So: How do you actually write? Tell me about your writing process.”

Bilbo pouted. “I _won’t_ tell a hall of strangers that there are days where I simply sit over my notebooks and write, write, write as if I were mad while on others I only stare at them without even jotting down a single word. I lack the words to describe the latter situation eloquently or in nice family-friendly terms.”

A wry smile appeared on Thorin’s face. “I know. I heard you cursing on some of that special days. But give it a try, love.”

Bilbo shook his head – not in disagreement, but as a sign that he would do so. Several weeks had already passed, and he had learned that Thorin’s support plan was well-conceived. By now he also knew its different stages.

Their round of questions always started with the waiter preparing a pot of tea – usually black tea, but chamomile on days he had some tricky questions for Bilbo. He had started with topics that were less personal and thus easier to answer: about Bilbo’s curriculum vitae, his publisher, and his former books.

But it was chamomile today, and the scent hadn’t improved Bilbo’s mood. The whole day hadn’t; it was cold outside, and it had been pouring all day long. He didn’t feel like thinking about his reading in Rivendell, but he knew how important it was. He hadn’t got much time left.

Thorin, however, was confident as usual. As always, his first step was to encourage Bilbo to answer the questions without thinking too much about them. It didn’t matter if what he said made any sense or not – he talked to Thorin, and he would never judge him. It soon turned into a discussion, and they deepened some aspects that could be interesting for the audience at the book fair. At the same time Bilbo took notes to rearrange them into well-phrased answers.

The notebook was step two: a visual reminder of what he had already achieved – something Thorin reminded him of whenever he saw that Bilbo had trouble with the questions and was about to lose courage.

If that didn’t work, Thorin proceeded to step three: He began to cheer him up with kind words. Bilbo didn’t think himself to be easily swayed by words, much less by flattery. He had made bad experiences with that and had thus become wary of blandishments.

But Thorin didn’t flatter him. He was always sincere, and he could say the most beautiful things without making them sound exaggerated or gaudy. Bilbo’s heart simply overflowed at Thorin’s affectionate voice, and he couldn’t help smiling at him. If he didn’t manage a smile, not even a tiny one, well, then it was a dark day indeed. And if that happened, Thorin accepted that they wouldn’t achieve much, and he didn’t push Bilbo. Instead they retired to the couch or to bed straightaway. They didn’t talk much in such situations, but Thorin kept an arm wrapped around him.

Not that Bilbo was often in such a bad mood that they had to give up for that day, no. Thorin had been right: He liked to talk about writing and books, especially when he had such an attentive and clever listener like his boyfriend, and he quite enjoyed most of their preparation lessons. On some days, though …

Today was such a day. They had already left their usual places at the dining table and sat on the couch. Thorin’s arms were around Bilbo like a blanket, and he leaned his head back against the crook of his neck. Usually the waiter’s presence was comforting, but Bilbo felt fidgety nonetheless. He heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry for being such a nuisance”, he mumbled miserably.

“Hush”, Thorin said softly; his breath grazed Bilbo’s curls. “Everybody has a bad day sometimes. You’re doing great so far.”

He huffed. “But it’s so maddening. Sometimes I think that I’m well prepared indeed, and then there are moments when the sheer thought of having to go up on the stage, of sitting in the spotlight frightens me. Alone, with thousand eyes watching me … It’s horrible, and I only want to crawl under my blanket and forget the whole matter.” Another sigh. “But it’s difficult to forget.”

Thorin’s thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of Bilbo’s hand. “Like today?”

“Like today.”

“I guessed as much. Usually you’re easier to distract.” Thorin had brought his lips so close to Bilbo’s ear that he shivered at the low whisper, and the feeling increased as his boyfriend pressed a feather-light kiss on the shell of his ear.

Bilbo withdrew his hand to give him a playful slap on the fingers. “Not everything can be solved that way, you know.”

Thorin chuckled. “Well, it was worth a try. Time for plan B.” He stayed silent for a moment, and when he continued to speak, it was obvious to hear that his words were carefully considered. “I wanted to wait until the book fair was over before bringing up this matter. But … would you like to move in with me?”

He stirred. “Move in with you? Like, the both of us together in one apartment? Living together?” Suddenly the book fair seemed far, far away, and the gloom loosened its grip around him as he slowly began to understand what Thorin had just asked him.

“Usually you’re so good with words, and now I have to define it for you?” Thorin laughed, it sounded a bit shaky. “But that’s what I want to say. I want to be together with you.”

“And I”, Bilbo said, and a little laugh welled up in his throat, “want to be together with you. I want to fall asleep next to you every day. So yes. Yes, I want to move in with you.” He tilted his head back, and Thorin took the chance to kiss him.

“Now”, Thorin said quietly, “how about another round of questions? Not about books and writing, though. Instead, I’d like to know how you imagine our future apartment …”

 

***

 

“… and a hearty welcome for Bilbo Baggins!”

The presenter’s voice brought Bilbo back into reality, and he entered the stage with wobbly knees. He managed the way to the desk without stumbling nonetheless. The applause ebbed away as he sat down and searched for his reading glasses. Eventually he brought his mouth closer to the microphone.

“Good evening.” His voice sounded strange to his own ears, and panic rose in him as he wondered if the audience might have the same impression. He forced himself to look up, and his gaze wandered over the people in the hall without actually making out individual faces. He swallowed nervously, but the words, often practiced with Thorin, found their way over his lips nonetheless. “Thank you very much for the warm welcome, and for the kind introduction – although I’m afraid you’re flattering me.” A few chuckles in the audience, but Bilbo didn’t relax a bit. “To be honest, I’ve never been a fan of long speeches, but always preferred a direct approach. Therefore, I’d like to start my reading at once.”

Bilbo focused on his book and quickly browsed through it. He hadn’t used bookmarks as the decision for the parts he wanted to present hadn’t caused him any difficulties, and he knew the page numbers by heart.

However, he hesitated as soon as he had opened the correct page. There was a scribbled note in the margin. This wasn’t an uncommon sight, he tended to leave many notes in his own books. These lines, though, were not written in his own spidery hand.

_You’re the cleverest, bravest, gentlest soul, and I know that you will do great. I love you, and I will always be at your side._

Bilbo smiled at the lines in Thorin’s angular handwriting. He was touched by the message, but also by the fact that his boyfriend knew him well enough to guess which pages he would open for certain during his reading, and where his note wouldn’t stay unnoticed.

He looked at his audience with new confidence. Waiters moved from table to table to serve drinks, and for a moment he imagined that one of them was Thorin who was watching him affectionately and who would wait for him behind the stage with open arms. Warmth spread in his chest at this thought, and his voice was clear as he began to read.

Bilbo experienced the reading down to the slightest detail, and at the same time everything seemed to pass him by in a daze. He was positively surprised when he realized that it was over, and that the applause was for him, and him alone.

The presenter appeared on the stage again, thanked him, and then spoke the words that Bilbo had dreaded since he had been invited to Rivendell: “And now it’s time for the round of questions! If there’s anything you’d like to ask Mister Baggins, don’t be shy!”

The reading had given Bilbo confidence, but it threatened to crumble as a woman raised her hand, and another staff member handed her a microphone. The woman looked definitely important; she was clad in an elegant white dress, and her golden hair was artfully pinned-up. Her voice was smooth when she asked: “I’m curious how you actually write. Would you tell us more about it?”

Of course she had to ask _that_ question. Bilbo’s spirits sank at once, and he quickly reached for his water glass to gain a few moments. His mind was racing, and he couldn’t grasp a single word he had said to Thorin about this matter, or written down into his notebook.

He was further distracted by a movement at the woman’s side as one of the waiters placed a glass in front of her. His mouth went dry although he had just taken a gulp of water.

That couldn’t be.

But on the other hand – was it really possible that he could mistake the broad frame he had so often traced with his fingers, the facial features he loved to caress with his lips, or the hair bun he always loosened so he could run his hands through the dark tresses? And the blue eyes that were looking at him now …

_I love you, and I will always be at your side._

Thorin was here, in Rivendell, at the book fair. He was obviously dressed for work – white shirt, black vest, black tie, white apron, and carrying a tray. He smiled at Bilbo, and the sight reminded him of the many hours they had spent together, when Bilbo had sat opposite of him and had looked at the same encouraging smile.

“That’s a good opening question”, he said as the words suddenly returned to him, “although not one that’s easy to answer, I’m afraid. Of course a writer needs a lot of discipline, but you can’t expect inspiration to sit down in front of the notebooks at the same time as you do.” The audience laughed, and now the sound raised Bilbo’s spirits.

It wasn’t a complete change as if he had become an altogether different person who had no troubles with speaking in front of a big audience at all. He still stammered sometimes, had to pause to find the fitting words or to correct himself. But something else happened, something he had not expected when he had been invited to Rivendell: He found himself smiling while he answered the questions about his early career, about his experiences with children audiences, even about possible future projects. He actually felt a bit sad when the presenter finally declared that there was only time for one more question.

“Do you have some kind of a muse, Mister Baggins? Somebody who inspires you?”

“I have”, Bilbo said with a smile. “But who that is … I will keep a secret.”

He stood up and bowed down, and the audience applauded. His heart fluttered at the sound; somehow he couldn’t believe that it was done … and that he had done well, very well at that! He smiled half joyful, half in disbelief when the presenter led him from the stage and to his table.

The people who already sat there greeted him with friendly faces, but Bilbo was glad that they didn’t want to talk about his performance right now, or ask him even more questions. He still felt dizzy, and there was a strange, somewhat belated excitement rushing through him now. His mouth was dry, and he quickly emptied his glass of water. Everything had gone so well, he mused, he had definitely earned himself a glass of wine.

Bilbo didn’t even have the time to turn around and look for one of the waiters to place an order, though – a high, elegant glass was placed in front of him just at that moment. Champagne, he noticed with a satisfied grin.

The grin broadened as his eyes travelled from the hands that had brought him his drink over the muscular arms, clad in crisp white fabric, up to the black tie, and finally settled on the face he knew so well and yet lacked the words to describe adequately in all its lovely features.

“Good evening, Mister Baggins”, the waiter greeted in his smooth voice. “My name is Thorin, and I’m your server tonight. If you have any wishes, don’t hesitate to tell me.” With a smile, he handed him the menu. “But at first … May I say how much I enjoyed your reading?”

Bilbo accepted the menu without taking his eyes off Thorin. He was bursting with curiosity – why was his boyfriend here, and as a waiter at that? And of course he wanted to thank him properly for this wonderful surprise, no matter how many people surrounded them. But he felt light-headed, and he decided to play along. “That’s very kind of you, Thorin.”

“You know, I’ve read all your books.”

“Really?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Even the children’s books?”

“Even the children’s books”, the waiter confirmed. “I’ve got two little nephews, and they adore you. Although I”, he said with a twinkle in his eyes, and lowered his voice, “I prefer your love poems.”

“I owe them to my muse”, the writer teased and finally took a sip of his champagne. It left a slight prickle on his tongue, but it also reminded him of how hungry he was. However, he only cast a short glance at the menu as he remembered the first time Thorin had been his waiter. “Can you recommend me something, Thorin?”, he asked just like he had back then.

Thorin’s gaze softened as he understood what Bilbo was alluding to. He bent down as if to study the menu and brought his face closer to Bilbo than what would have been appropriate for any waiter. Bilbo, however, quite enjoyed his closeness.

“Am I right in my assumption that you like mushrooms?”, Thorin eventually asked.

“Very much”, Bilbo confirmed.

“Then my recommendation is clear: The mushroom risotto for the first course. As for the main course …” The waiter looked up from the menu, and his gaze kept Bilbo’s enthralled. “Do you like it hot?”

The woman that sat next to Bilbo looked up in surprise as she heard their obviously flirty tone, but as she studied Thorin’s handsome profile, a smile as well as a look of understanding appeared on her face.

“Oh”, Bilbo answered idly, “I think that I’m definitely in the mood for something hot.”

“Then I’ll recommend you the curried chicken”, Thorin replied perfectly serious.

“Although that sounds delicious, I was thinking you were already talking about … dessert.”

“That again will be sweet, I promise you. And there will be plenty for you … and only for you.” The corners of Thorin’s mouth twitched; it took him some effort to maintain an earnest face. His eyes shone with anticipation and a desire that made the writer shudder pleasantly.

He rose again, but his hand still lingered on Bilbo’s back. “You must be hungry after all the excitement. I’ll be back with your food soon.”

The writer’s face beamed as he watched Thorin returning to the kitchen. The woman next to him raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Bilbo grinned at her.

“There’s no one like him”, he stated merrily. “His service is the best.”

“I can imagine”, the woman answered with amusement. “He seems to take good care of you.”

Bilbo looked into his glass. “He does indeed.” Usually it would make him blush right to the tip of his ears to exchange such words with a stranger. He had always been shy, almost secretive about personal matters. Maybe it had to do with his nosy relatives – he had learned rather early to keep as many things as possible from them to save himself from their bickering.

And when it came to his relationships … Well, there hadn’t been many to begin with, and he hadn’t shown much interest in following the advices of his aunts and great-uncles and second and third cousins to find a partner. On the few dates he had been, Bilbo had never felt like he could be himself. He was expected to smile at being told compliments, even if they deemed him exaggerated. He was expected to listen attentively to his date, even if it deemed him boring. He was expected to let them hold his hand, even if it deemed him obtrusive. All he was ever met with were expectations, not acceptance. It just hadn’t felt … right.

But Thorin felt right. He was the first who gave Bilbo the feeling to be accepted just as he was, with all his strengths and talents, but with all his weaknesses and moods as well. He still marvelled at the way Thorin had stepped into his life. Who could have guessed that he would meet such a wonderful person while he was on a blind date with another man, a charmer who only was interested in him for one night? Bilbo still remembered how foolish and betrayed he had felt when he had learned the truth about his seemingly charming date from the contrite waiter.

But not even in one of his books Bilbo could have imagined that the man who bore that unpleasant message to him could be his true love.

He smiled into his champagne glass. True love, that sounded like right out of a fairy tale, didn’t it? But it hadn’t taken him much time to realize that it was the truth. Everything felt right with Thorin. Bilbo was comfortable in his presence, and he was able to show him another side of him, the playful, even cheeky one. And Thorin loved this side of him as much as he loved his quiet, shy one.

Bilbo found himself waiting for his return yearningly, and he came to a decision. He would try to be more open with showing his affection for Thorin. Not because of any expectations, no, but because he wanted it. He wanted to show Thorin how much he meant to him, every day. 

Bilbo smiled to himself at the realization. He could hardly await living together with Thorin. What a pity they hadn’t got the charming apartment they had inspected two weeks ago …

When the waiter returned and placed the plate in front of him, Bilbo spontaneously grabbed his vest, pulled him towards him and gave him a gentle kiss – not shyly on the cheek, but on the lips. Thorin made a sound of surprise, but returned the caress softly.

“But Bilbo”, he said when his boyfriend let go of him, “I just brought you your first course.”

“Oaf”, Bilbo muttered fondly.

“Enjoy your food, darling.”

Bilbo didn’t need to be told twice. He savoured every bit of the exquisite meals, chatted pleasantly with the other guests, and he also enjoyed the small tokens of affection Thorin showed him whenever he appeared at the table. Bilbo wondered once more how he had managed to work at the book fair.

He sighed with content when Thorin cleared the table after dessert. It had become quiet in the hall by now; many people were leaving now that the reading and the dinner were over.

He laid his hand on the waiter’s arm. “I’ll make sure to leave a generous tip.”

“I gather that you’re satisfied with my service?”

“I am. But, Thorin, there’s one thing I’d like to know …”

“And that is?”

“Do you also offer room service?”

A grin appeared on the waiter’s face. “For you? Always. Although …” He shrugged apologetically. “It might take a bit of time. I’m still supposed to work, you see …”

“You just have to leave your apron on.” Bilbo grinned at him. “Then it counts as work, doesn’t it?”

Thorin brought his face close to Bilbo’s as if to kiss him, but he stopped as they were still separated by a hair’s breadth. “Sounds like a good idea to me”, he whispered.

“Room 315”, Bilbo told him with a smile. “Don’t make me wait too long.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s a wonderful surprise, my dear.” With a laugh Bilbo put his wine glass aside. He stopped, however, as his boyfriend spoke again.  
> “Bilbo …”  
> There was an undercurrent in his voice that made him turn around with a concerned look. Thorin, however, pointed towards the tray.  
> “I’ve got another surprise for you.”
> 
> Have some fluff :)

“Come in”, Bilbo called with a grin as he heard three heavy knocks against the door of his hotel suite. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Thorin entered, and the tray he carried stayed perfectly balanced as he made an elegant bow. When he rose again, his gaze fell upon the couch where Bilbo had made himself comfortable. He kept his serious-professional waiter face at the sight he was offered, but Bilbo knew him well enough to see the surprise as well as the affection and the anticipation in his eyes.

After the reading, when he had returned to his rooms, Bilbo had felt dizzy and heated – if from all the excitement or all the champagne he couldn’t tell – and had decided for a quick shower. He hadn’t been keen on putting all his layers of clothes from the reading on again, so he had simply tossed the neat trousers, crisp shirt, waistcoat and jacket aside. Instead he had grabbed one of Thorin’s white work shirts. Bilbo had put it into his suitcase without really knowing why, maybe hoping its familiar scent would offer him a little comfort. He had definitely not expected to actually wear it – after all it was way too big for him, and the fabric reached down to his knees.

But, judging from the way Thorin’s eyes lingered on him, it hadn’t been a bad decision.

Bilbo smiled invitingly, and – much to his amusement – Thorin blushed and concentrated on the tray in his hands again. He set it down on the table in front of the couch. There were two elegant glasses on it as well as a bottle of red wine and bowls with little treats.

Humming to himself, Bilbo got up and peeked over Thorin’s shoulder. He waited patiently until the waiter had poured them some wine and had set the bottle down again before hugging him from behind.

“You’re a marvel”, he mumbled into his back.

With his arms wrapped around Thorin’s chest, he could feel how his boyfriend chuckled.

“I think there’s an entire hall of people that would insist on _you_ being a marvel”, he replied, his voice earnest now. “And I can only agree with them. You were amazing.”

“I had a little help”, Bilbo admitted and raised himself on tiptoes. He had to crane his neck as well, but eventually he was able to breathe a kiss on Thorin’s neck. Then he sank down again and gave him a last squeeze before turning him around with a laugh. “But now you have to tell me everything about how you got to Rivendell – I’m dying from curiosity! Come, sit down with me!” He reached for the wine glasses, handed one to Thorin and ushered him towards the couch.

They sat down together, each of them leaning against one of the armrests. Their legs were entangled, though, and Bilbo relished the feeling of the smooth fabric of Thorin’s trousers against his bare skin.

“There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid”, Thorin began. “I wanted to surprise you, so I took the train –”

“The train!”, Bilbo exclaimed, already interrupting him. “But it must have taken you hours to get here!”

“It wasn’t that bad”, the waiter appeased him. “I took the night train and slept most of the time. Besides, going by train was much cheaper than a flight.”

The writer smiled fondly at him. It wasn’t that any of them had financial problems and had to think twice about spending a single coin. But since they wanted to move in together, they had decided to save money for their new home.

“I wanted to surprise you. That I ended up as a waiter was actually coincidence.” Thorin reached for Bilbo’s feet and began to draw gentle circles over his knuckles, causing him to sigh with content. “While I was waiting at the reception, I overheard some people talking – some of the organisers, it seemed. Obviously they hadn’t enough waiters for the evening as some got sick. And I – I wasn’t sure anyway if you would like it if I accompanied you today, or if I would only make you nervous, so I approached them. And that’s basically the whole story.”

Bilbo grinned at him. “And they entrusted you with taking care of me, their special guest, just like that?”

“They quickly called Bombur for some references. And”, Thorin answered slowly as a grin spread on his face as well, “it might be possible that I had to beg. But just a bit.”

“It’s a wonderful surprise, my dear.” With a laugh Bilbo put his wine glass aside. He wanted to turn around to fall into Thorin’s arms, but he stopped as his boyfriend spoke again.

“Bilbo …”

There was an undercurrent in his voice that made him turn around indeed, but with a concerned look. Thorin, however, pointed towards the tray.

“I’ve got another surprise for you.”

Curiously Bilbo took a closer look at the tray. Almost hidden behind the bottle and a bowl with berries he found an oblong box. He carefully took it, and when he opened it he saw a key. But no, he realized, it wasn’t an actual key, it was too fragile for that. It was a piece of jewellery, a pendant. It was lovely, but he wondered why Thorin gave him such a gift –

“I got a phone call just before I came here”, he explained as Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “You remember the apartment we inspected two weeks ago?”

Of course he did. It had been lovely, bright and cheerful, with a little garden and even enough space for a small library. It had been perfect, but the landlord had decided for another applicant. Or –

“The other person has declined the offer. We can have the apartment.” Thorin smiled. “Usually I don’t like being the second choice, but in that case –” He got interrupted as Bilbo threw himself in his arms and began to cover his face with kisses.

“So”, Thorin said breathlessly after some moments of busy silence, “you really want to move in together with me? The famous Bilbo Baggins wants to live together with a simple waiter? Just like in a fairy tale?”

“My dear”, Bilbo replied, “you’re so much more than a simple waiter. If we were in a fairy tale indeed, I think you’d be the prince.”

“I’m not sure I can agree with that … but I’ll promise to carry you across the doorstep into our home just like any prince would do.”

Bilbo gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “We’re moving in together – it’s not like we’re getting married!”

“Well”, Thorin wrapped his arms around him, and his hands were pleasantly warm on Bilbo’s back, “things can always change … don’t you agree?”

Bilbo looked at him fondly. “I think I do agree … my prince.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sops. I just love them XD
> 
> I hope you enjoyed them too!


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